


World on Fire

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7328254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>China, 1900. The night Spike kills his first Slayer a ghostly Buffy is there to see it. They both learn that even time and space can't keep them apart.</p><p>Beta read by Gort.</p><p>Archived at EF and AO3 ONLY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World on Fire

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

            -Chris Isaak, “Wicked Game”

 

****

 

The city was burning.

 

The acerbic taste of ash filled his mouth and he couldn’t sleep. The Chinese Slayer’s blood was still fizzing inside him. He was drunk on it. Beside him Dru was fast asleep, turned on her side away from him, one hand stretched out to where her Sire and Darla lay. Spike doubted she’d be happy with him if he woke her for yet another roll in the hay. She’d probably complain loudly, wake the others, and then he’d have to put up with their yammering. She’d also seemed kind of bored during the last round and he felt too good to put up with that.

 

He adjusted his semi-erect cock in his trousers and groaned. The bloody thing had been at attention since the Slayer chit’s blood had exploded across his tongue. Maybe one more good wank would let him sleep. Only not next to Drusilla.  She tended to get shrill whenever she woke up and found him tossing off. He liked to hear her scream, just not because she was brassed off about him scratching an itch. Dru had some twisted up ideas about morality.

 

Unsteadily, he got to his feet, looking around the abandoned warehouse they’d taken shelter in. There were still a few hours till dawn. He almost giggled as the wooden walls seemed to breathe in and out with him. He was breathing. Oops. Not supposed to do that, it tended to make Angelus mad. The reflex was too human for his Grandsire. Excellent way to catch yet another beating. He frowned. Well, not lately. Angelus seemed to have mellowed in the last little while, which was terrifying in its own right.

 

Spike sighed. He needed somewhere he could be alone for a few minutes. He walked towards the wall, putting a hand out to steady himself when he got there. He wondered what kind of wood it was made of. Oak? Pine? Did trees mind being killed and turned into something else? He supposed it was better than just being another tree in a whole forest of them.

                                                                                         

Spike started singing under his breath as he walked along the wall. His hand trailed over the roughhewn planks.  When his hand met air he turned and found himself headed up a set of stairs. They seemed to go on forever, maybe he was climbing straight up to heaven. He chuckled at his own joke. At the top and halfway through his third round of the song Spike found a dead end. No, wait, there was a trapdoor in the ceiling. With a clumsy jump and a near crash landing, he was able to pull it open and make his way onto the roof of the warehouse.

 

In the distance, parts of the city still belched flame and smoke, but overhead the stars spiraled away into infinity. He tilted his head back and spun around and around, laughing.

 

****

 

Buffy watched her vampire with a sad smile. It sucked being dead. Stupid Glory and her stupid tower. Though being a ghost that was able to bounce around in time with foreknowledge of her own future was a plus. She’d stayed close to home immediately after perishing, watching Dawn, the Scoobies, and Spike work on getting through life without her. But that had gotten boring quickly, so she’d started going further afield, first in location and then in time. It’d taken her a while, but she’d finally worked up the courage to come and watch Spike kill his first Slayer. Buffy hadn’t been disappointed. It’d been a heck of a show.

 

Afterwards she’d done her spook routine and followed the four vampires on their dash to find safety. Since Spike was still awake she’d stayed, not wanted the night to end. It was weird being in love with him, a comfortable emotion that hadn’t existed so plainly before her spirit state. In time, and a few more trips in and out of the gates of death for both of them, they’d find the love and happiness together they both craved. She really wished she didn’t have to wait.   

 

Her lips tugged up into a bright smile as she watched Spike laugh to himself under the night sky. Apparently he was as high as a kite. He reached a hand out towards the heavens, like he wanted to touch the stars, but fell when he overbalanced. Buffy giggled. The vampire popped back to his feet and looked warily around.

 

“Who’s there?” he asked. He turned so his back was to her.

 

Buffy walked forward into the moonlight. She didn’t think he’d be able to see her, but with all that Slayer blood in his system it was a possibility.

 

“Hi, Spike,” she called. He whirled back around, tilted his head slightly, and squinted his eyes. They widened in shock when he realized a petite blonde woman was standing right in front of him.

 

“Where’d you come from? Who are you? How do you know me?” He stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and ending up in a heap on the ground once more.

 

“I’m a ghost,” she said with a grin. Spike nodded, like she was making perfect sense. He sat up and scooted his back against a low wall that ran the length of the roof.

 

“Does that explain the lack of clothing then?” He jerked his head in her direction.

 

Buffy looked down at herself. She was wearing a completely normal outfit of a white halter top, black skirt, and strappy sandals with a small heel.

 

“Well, a century from now this is pretty normal. No one would bat an eye.”

 

“You look naked.” His leer made her blush. “So you’re the ghost of ruddy Christmas future then?” Spike bent one knee up, leaning forward to hook his arms around it while continuing to rake her form with his gaze.

 

“Something like that, though I’m not here to impart any great messages or anything.”

 

“What are you here for then?” he asked suspiciously.

 

Buffy shrugged. This was fun. “I was indulging myself in a little spectatorship.”

 

“Of…” he prompted. His eyes kept running up and down her legs.

 

“You taking out the Slayer. I had a nice front row seat. Very impressive.”

 

Spike beamed at her. “Well, it’s flattering to know that in a hundred years my little triumph will still be talked about.”

 

“You’ll be around to make sure we all remember. I know how much you just hate to brag.”

 

He chuckled. “So you know me in this future time, then?”

 

“Yes, it’s weird. I died, and I’m a ghost, but I know I’m going to be brought back. And it’s like I’ve already lived through everything that happens after I’m resurrected. Gah- it’s hard to explain. Just take it on faith I’m some mystical spirit lady that knows a ton about future-you.” She was hoping he wouldn’t ask how she knew him, she didn’t want to lie, but they’d be there forever if she tried to explain.  

 

“But you’re not a vampire?”  He cocked his head to his side in a way that was so Spike that it made her heart ache. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. 

 

Buffy laughed. “Sorry, not just no, but hell no.”

 

“You know me, though?”

 

“Yup- in pretty much every sense of the word.”

 

His eyebrows shot straight up. Blood crusted one side, the cuts he’d received from the Slayer’s blade. Those scars were so familiar to her. They were such an intrinsic part of him. Her fingers twitched with longing. She couldn’t resist.

 

Buffy reached her hand out tentatively, but he didn’t shy away from her phantom touch. Focusing all her will on her fingertips she lightly brushed the new cuts on his left eyebrow. Spike gasped, and an electric tingle ran down her own arm. It became easier for her to make her hand solid. She tried again, running a finger across his brow, then up to tangle her knuckles in his hair.

 

“Never seen it like this,” Buffy murmured as she tugged at the long, sandy locks.

 

Spike’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. One moment of perfect stillness, then he yelped in shock and tried to pull away. Buffy felt like her whole being had erupted in fire, she was falling through flames.

 

His hand wouldn’t cooperate to let her go. Spike yanked again, succeeding only in bringing her flush up against him. Buffy’s knees gave out. She was held up only by the vampire’s hand on her wrist.  Then his other arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her. Her chest felt like it was going to explode, but then the fire fled as swiftly as it had started. She was left gasping, clutching at Spike’s shirt. She could feel it: the heft and weave of the fabric. He was still grasping her other arm in his cold hand. The coarse weave of his trousers was rough against her knees. All of her was corporeal, and pressed up against Spike.

 

“Hi,” she said, suddenly shy.

 

“What the bloody hell was that?” he gasped.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Don’t know, I think it was something to do with all the Slayer blood in your system. It brought me through, somehow.”

 

“Why would Slayer blood have anything to do with you, Ghost?”

 

“Because I’m a Slayer.”

 

“Oh.” He glanced down at her, looking wary at finding out that he was holding a snake, but he didn’t let go. “So let me get this straight. You’re a ghost, from the future. A Slayer that knows…” He paused, giving her a wolfish grin. “Who knows me, but that I didn’t kill, and you’re here because you wanted to see me take out the Chinese bint I did tonight.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s usually pretty boring being a ghost.”

 

“How’d you know I killed this girl?” Spike was still holding her against him. He felt so good. A solid presence that she fit perfectly against. She missed him.  

 

“You told me, of course, silly.” Buffy was getting lost in sensation: cool night air, the scratch of fabric, his cold, hard body pressing against her heated one. This was so much better that her usual ethereal spirit state. She was as alive as possible given the circumstances.

 

Spike rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Did I?”

 

“Mm-hmm.”  Loosening her hand from its grip on his shirt she brought it up to his face, tracing along his jaw with the back of one finger.

 

Spike let go of her wrist, and used his hand to cup her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “So did you stick around after she was dead to watch the show?” His lips curled up into a very familiar leer.

 

“Ew, no. Didn’t need to see that, it’s bad enough knowing it happens.” Buffy scrunched up her nose. Jealousy probably wasn’t very becoming in a ghost, but she couldn’t help it.

 

“I told you that part, too?” He looked surprised.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Best day of your life. All that jazz.” Her free hand was resting on his shoulder while the other continued to pet his face.

 

“What’s jazz?” he asked, puzzled.

 

“You’ll figure it out in a couple of years.” She wanted to punch him, scream at him, tell him that one day holding her would be his best day of his life- but he wouldn’t understand. He was so young, and flush with his kill. Proud and savage. This was a Spike she didn’t really know. She had caught only a tiny glimpse of this creature during his first year in Sunnydale. Right now he was barely more than a fledge. Evil had consumed him and was nowhere near to spitting him back out again. If he wasn’t chock full of Slayer blood already and snockered on it, she’d be drained by now, just so much fodder for his appetites. It made her head spin. She was being cosseted by a tiger.

 

“You’re magnificent,” Buffy breathed. Because he was. The sleek predator under her fingers took her breath away. The knowledge that one day he’d love her more than anything, enough to deny the nature that was on full display right now, was heady stuff.

 

Spike let go of her chin and tangled his hands in her hair. “And you’re beautiful.”  

 

Her lower lip started to quiver. “You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow.”

 

“What? Forget a bird like you? Not happening.”

 

“You won’t have a choice. You’re all hopped up on Slayer blood, and mix that with the time bendy things I’m doing to be here, and at most I’ll be a distant dream.” A tear leaked from her eye. “Even worse is that I’ll forget. As soon as I’m pulled back among the living I won’t remember.” Another tear followed the first down her cheek. Spike caught it on his finger and brought the salt to his tongue.

 

“Let’s make them good dreams then,” he whispered, and kissed her. His lips were soft, questioning. He tasted both familiar and strange. There was no whisky or smoke on his breath, only undiluted Spike.  Buffy knew she should stop him, push him away or make some remark about Drusilla that’d tick him off. It was cruel of her to play this wicked game with him. He didn’t love her. It was all leftover lust from his kill. And Buffy knew her feelings were all twisted, full of things that would happen a long time from this night. She was full of love that wasn’t truly for the evil thing holding her. But she couldn’t find the will to care. Spike was right, if she was going to haunt his dreams for a century, she’d better make those visions freaking phenomenal.

 

Her hands came up to his shoulders, and she began to kiss him back. His mouth hardened, became demanding. Under the onslaught her lips softened and parted with a husky breath. Seizing the opportunity, he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, possessing it with broad strokes.

 

The bright taste of a new copper penny was carried along with the more familiar taste of Spike. The life of her sister Slayer. Buffy sent a silent prayer of thanks to Xin Rong, for helping make her vampire who he would one day become. She also asked for forgiveness, because Buffy knew she wouldn't change anything in Spike’s past if it meant that he wouldn't turn up in Sunnydale and her life.

Spike growled low in the back of his throat. His mouth was still on hers he brought both hands to her hips, fingers digging into her curves. Using his grip to hold her steady, he ground his erection against her belly. Buffy mewed into his mouth and nipped at his tongue. A growl continued to rumble through his chest as he fisted the hem of her shirt before shredding it off her body. His hands skimmed over her breasts and the dark pink nipples pebbled into hard peaks.

He nibbled along her jaw while he kneaded the soft flesh of a breast with one hand. The other grabbed her ass to hold her steady under his onslaught. “You’re sodding warm for an apparition,” he murmured against the tender skin of her neck.

She could only moan in response. The buttons of his shirt gave way under her fingers and she pushed it and his jacket from his shoulders. He was all familiar pale skin over lean muscle. Buffy nearly purred in happiness as she ran her hands over his back and his muscles flexed and rippled under her touch.

Her skirt was pushed down to pool around her ankles. Spike took a step back as he ran his fingers over her lacy black panties.

“Do all birds wear such arousing scraps of fabric for knickers in the future?” His face was awed.

Buffy giggled. ‘It’s just underwear, Spike.” She ran her fingers down his chest, over his stomach which shivered under her nails, and shoved the tips into his waistband. Her thumbs stroked his cock through the rough cloth of his trousers. Spike groaned and bucked his hips towards her. Her breath hitched, want turning to need. She tried to work the buttons on the front of his pants but he caught her clumsy hands in his own and pressed a kiss to each palm.

“I want to see you,” he whispered and went to his knees. He hooked the sides of her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs. She stepped out of them and he tossed the bit of lace to the side. His hands ran over her legs. Long fingers circled her ankles, worked their way up her calves, and petted the inside of her thighs. She widened her stance for him and at last the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her sex. “Bloody hell!” He stroked her firmly. “You’re more than ready for me, aren’t you, luv?”

She groaned. “Need you.” Her hands were resting on his shoulders and she pulled him towards her. Buffy knew him, knew his desires and how his body worked. She craved the way he worshiped her with his lips and tongue. It seemed like forever since she’d touched him, though chronologically…

She told her brain to shut up.

Spike surprised her by ducking out of her grip. He propped his back up against the low wall and stretched his long legs out. Never taking his eyes off her he worked the fastenings of his trousers and lifted his hips to shove them down around his knees. Casually, he leaned back and ran his hand over his erection. It was lying taut and straining against his belly and she couldn’t look away. Her attention was rapt as he made sure his foreskin was pulled back before he fisted his cock and began sliding his palm up and down his length.

“See something you like, Slayer?”

Hell yeah, she did.

Buffy nodded mutely as the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips. He could have no idea how the use of her title made her all shivery and melty inside.

Spike was wearing that infuriating smirk of his. “Then why don’t you come over here and show me what a Slayer is capable of? I promise not to bite unless you ask me to.” His eyes glowed yellow for a second and Buffy’s stomach clenched. He’d never believe her if she told him how future-her would beg for his fangs.

Ash from the fires turning the city to ruins drifted around her as she stalked towards him in her sandals. She stopped with one foot on either side of his knees. “Are you sure you’re up for this, vampire?” she teased.

“I’m up for anything, luv. Do your worst.” He thrust his cock harder against his palm, his nose twitching as he breathed in her scent. Slowly, she lowered herself until she was on her knees. One of his strong hands gripped her hip to still her and the other pressed the dark red head of his cock against her slick opening.

She whimpered as her juices dripped to coat his shaft and fingers. Her whimpers turned to a moan as he dragged the tip of his dick through her folds. Forward to brush and grind against her clit and back to circle and shallowly penetrate her vagina. Spike kept his bruising grip on her hip, not letting her move. She trembled and gasped, her hands resting on his shoulders and her fingers grasping weakly as he relentlessly tormented her.

The gaping ache inside her was becoming unbearable. “Fill me,” she begged.

“Alright,” he cooed. “I’ve got you…” He trailed off and looked confused. “I don’t know your name.” Spike chuckled. “Got you creaming and panting for me and I don’t even know your bloody name.”

“Buffy,” she gasped.

He smiled, his eyes dark. “Buffy.” He rolled the sound around on his tongue. “Going to make you feel so good, Buffy. I’m going to be so far inside you that you’ll never be the same again.”

She nodded eagerly. Yes, please!

With a grunt he tugged her down onto his cock at the same moment he thrust sharply upwards. His lips crashed into hers as he drank down her cry of pleasure from having his entire length impale her. Fire raged behind her eyelids as Spike used both his hands to help her find a rhythm that pleased them both.

He nibbled her lower lip before pressing kisses along the line of her jaw. “Open your eyes,” he rumbled against her throat. Buffy fluttered her lids apart, focusing on his face. A lock of sandy brown hair hung over his brow, his lips were parted slightly, and his eyes were heavy lidded and focused downwards. She leaned back and looked for herself at where they were joined.

Spike’s thick cock was sliding in and out of her tight channel as her hips rocked. The lips of her pussy were pushed wide apart and she watched in fascination as his shaft moved between them.

“So lovely,” he murmured. “You’re so hot, Buffy. You’re making me burn.” She gasped a little at his words, but knew he had no idea what he was saying. “You enjoying yourself, pet? Seems like I got you so spun you can’t even talk.”

“Uh,” she grunted.  One of her hands dropped from his shoulder to rub her clit in rough circles. She let one finger scratch lightly at the skin of his cock as they moved together. Her voice was hoarse when she found her tongue. “Check this out.” She squeezed her inner muscles, hard, strangling his shaft.

“Bloody hell!” Spike bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, a trickle of which ran down his chin. He jerked her upper body against him, flattening her breasts against the hard planes of his chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his hands grabbed her ass. He rose up on his knees, ruthlessly pounding his cock into her.

Her thighs quivered and her stomach tightened. With an inarticulate cry her head fell back as she came. The walls of her pussy pulsated hard around him as he plowed deep inside of her.

Spike’s nose was buried against the base of her throat. “Buffy,” he whimpered. “Buffy, oh god.” The movement of his hips became frenzied. With a loud grunt and one last hard thrust he came, his cock jerking as he spent his load in cool spurts.

Muscles shaking, he laid her down and collapsed beside her. With one arm around her waist Spike pulled her to him and planted kisses all over her face.

“I feel…luv, I can’t…”

“Shh,” she muttered, low and soothingly. “It’s okay. Hush now. I’m here.” There were tears in his eyes as she gently pushed him onto his back and cuddled into his shoulder. She wanted to give him the words, but telling him how much he was loved and how precious he was to her would only be cruel. The ether was already tugging at her and soon she’d be nothing but a ghost again. “Sleep,” she told him instead. “I’ll see you again, Spike. You just have to take the long way around.”

His arm tightened around her but he seemed helpless to do anything but let slumber overtake him. Dark lashes spread out against his cheeks and he was still against her.

Lovingly, Buffy brushed his hair out of his eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Feeling herself start to fade she scrambled to her feet and grabbed her panties. She pushed all the energy she could into making them real, then stuck them in the pocket of Spike’s coat. As soon as she was done the jacket fell to the ground. Buffy was now nearly transparent and once more incorporeal.

Stupid ghostyness.

Her scent would fade quickly and the slickness of her arousal from his body. Hopefully she’d managed to make her undies something permanent. Her clothes had reappeared on her body but she couldn’t tell if that included her panties or not.

She knelt next to Spike’s sleeping form. The red light from the fires washed over his pale skin, making it look ruddy and warm. He appeared human. With a sigh, she hovered a hand over his chest.

“Good-bye, my love,” she whispered. 

Then she was gone, leaving nothing but fading words on the ash streaked wind.

****

Spike’s brain swam back towards consciousness. With a happy sigh he reached for his girl, only to come up empty. He frowned. Buffy’s blonde hair had spilled over his chest as she’d snuggled her head into his shoulder. He patted the ground, panic welling up inside him. Had she gone already? A century. It’d be nearly a bloody century before he’d see her, feel her again. A sob threatened to leak out of his tight throat.

A boot caught him in the ribs and Spike’s eyes flew open with a grunt.

“Willie, boy, up and at ‘em. We need to move before sunup.” Angelus stood over him, glaring.

“Right.” He looked around, desperate for any sign of her…of… the girl. No! Her name had already faded from his mind.

“Pull your pants up, lad.” Angelus ran a hand over his face. “Don’t know why you needed to come all the way up here to give yourself a yank.”

“No…no…there was this girl. A…blonde.” Christ, it was all disappearing so fast!

“Sure, Willie. China’s chock full of strange blonde woman that live on roofs and diddle random vampires.” Angelus grasped Spike’s shirt and pulled him upright. With a sigh, Spike hauled his trousers up and fastened them. He put his shirt on and slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. Green eyes, she’d had green eyes. Blonde hair, green eyes, and a taste like sunshine.

Spike tried to hang onto the memories as he followed behind his Grandsire. The horizon was lit up with flames and it looked like the whole world was on fire. He’d burned that night, too, seared bone deep by…damn it! Her name, he wanted to remember her name.

After crawling down the ladder he shoved his balled up fists deep into the pockets of his coat. Something brushed against his left hand. He pulled out the indecent scrap of fabric she’d said was her underwear. With a mangled, raw noise he brought the lace to his nose and breathed in deeply. He quickly shoved Buffy’s knickers back in his pocket as Angelus turned to glance back at him. Buffy! He’d forget once more, it was inevitable, but he’d hold onto her for as long as he could. In a century he’d have her again and never, ever, leave her side.

“Everything okay?” Angelus asked with a sneer.

“Her name was Buffy, mate. Buffy…” Spike shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. His memory might falter, but she’d still be there, deep inside him, waiting.  

Angelus scowled. “What kind of a name is Buffy?”

~FIN~


End file.
